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"kenyan" poems
KENYA K….Kenya my beautiful country E ….earn honors and respect N …none is like you my country Y …you shine brighter compared to any other A …across the world, you light brighter that the sun The beauty sceneries of the green vegetation The dark color of the people of Kenya The arable land in Kenya The mines The animals and tourist centers in Kenya The presidency The politics The hot springs The digitality in Kenya The economic growth in Kenya The agricultural sector, The flag of Kenya The education sector in Kenya All make me feel proud of Kenya…. And I feel so good to be Kenyan.
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
why KENYA?
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born, Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism; So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya; The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion, Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture, Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress, M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd. This consumerism and **** consumerism, It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor It is the avaricious tube which siphons back The hard earned money from pockets of the poor Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
0
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
END MONTHS CONSUMERISM
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born, Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism; So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya; The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion, Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture, Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress, M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd. This consumerism and **** consumerism, It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor It is the avaricious tube which siphons back The hard earned money from pockets of the poor Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
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30
Lack of money is lack of friends; if you have money at your disposal, every dog and goat will claim to be related to you. ~ Yoruba War has no eyes ~ Swahili saying There can be no peace without understanding. ~Senegalese proverb A leader who does not take advice is not a leader. ~ Kenyan proverb If there is character, ugliness becomes beauty; if there is none, beauty becomes ugliness. ~Nigerian Proverb Unity is strength, division is weakness. ~ Swahili proverb Wisdom does not come overnight. ~ Somali proverb Knowledge without wisdom is like water in the sand. ~ Guinean proverb Home affairs are not talked about on the public square. ~ African proverb Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb Make some money but don’t let money make you. ~ Tanzania When you are rich, you are hated; when you are poor, you are despised. - African proverb A man who uses force is afraid of reasoning. ~Kenyan proverb Traveling is learning. ~Kenyan Proverb What you learn is what you die with. ~ African proverb He who is destined for power does not have to fight for it. ~ Ugandan proverb It takes a village to raise a child. ~ African proverb Poverty is slavery. ~Somalia The wealth which enslaves the owner isn’t wealth. ~ Yoruba Much wealth brings many enemies. – Swahili You are beautiful, but learn to work, for you cannot eat your beauty. ~Congolese Proverb A pretty face and fine clothes do not make character. ~Congolese Proverb Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb A close friend can become a close enemy.~ African proverb
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Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
African Proverbs
Lack of money is lack of friends; if you have money at your disposal, every dog and goat will claim to be related to you. ~ Yoruba War has no eyes ~ Swahili saying There can be no peace without understanding. ~Senegalese proverb A leader who does not take advice is not a leader. ~ Kenyan proverb If there is character, ugliness becomes beauty; if there is none, beauty becomes ugliness. ~Nigerian Proverb Unity is strength, division is weakness. ~ Swahili proverb Wisdom does not come overnight. ~ Somali proverb Knowledge without wisdom is like water in the sand. ~ Guinean proverb Home affairs are not talked about on the public square. ~ African proverb Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb Make some money but don’t let money make you. ~ Tanzania When you are rich, you are hated; when you are poor, you are despised. - African proverb A man who uses force is afraid of reasoning. ~Kenyan proverb Traveling is learning. ~Kenyan Proverb What you learn is what you die with. ~ African proverb He who is destined for power does not have to fight for it. ~ Ugandan proverb It takes a village to raise a child. ~ African proverb Poverty is slavery. ~Somalia The wealth which enslaves the owner isn’t wealth. ~ Yoruba Much wealth brings many enemies. – Swahili You are beautiful, but learn to work, for you cannot eat your beauty. ~Congolese Proverb A pretty face and fine clothes do not make character. ~Congolese Proverb Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb A close friend can become a close enemy.~ African proverb
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24
**I urge that we make ourselves proud… of us I urge that we go into and come out of these polls sober minded, responsible, uncorrupted, without ‘fight’ or ‘fuss’ Uncorrupted I urge that a joyous feeling of an evolving nation moving forward be the only thing we can, in hindsight, say erupted… this upcoming Monday, the following Tuesday I would like to state that a people gunning for peace in these coming days is the only topic I would like to be following in the news today We should see what’s coming as the change of guard it is… and not as a dreaded doomsday You may be black… I may be white, or vice versa… and that’s alright We shouldn't even be asking ourselves “Who’s grey?” I will vote with one heart for one country… my country A country in which I’m confident can keep the peace, you see, we’re kind of good at this I know this because we've had quite a bit of practice I know this because deep down we all want to make peaceful transitions be the Kenyan way I know, I hope… and whenever necessary, I pray Happy voting.**
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Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
Happy voting... {Poetry For Peace-Kenya}
i go through this daily plot waking, working, trudging first world ease, office walls wheeled chairs afternoon run tupperware lunch dinner the night before home again, dinner dishes again, play again, daughter picks up new phrases, new looks vegetable strainer toy "umbrella," she says i see those eyes, my wife's and i wonder what is this place? these walls, these roads, those sitka pines and shrinking glaciers? how 'm i supposed to be a father with all these things stretching out vaster than reason, than comprehension those talking heads, ranting this or that liberty's ***** freedom's snatched, the world warms, the world cools Filipinos scream in the face of angry winds, the prim cut weatherman wildly gestures at a colorful map, powerful he says, historic he says more dripping mouthes, government want guns now, more money to ****** our phones to send unmanned drones our president's muhammad, or jesus, or kenyan, or raciest a genius or incompetent everyone knows just back home a tiny algae grows and foams thrashing in the autumn water brown oxygen choking life never found on our shores before kills fish, i imagine so much more i hold my daughter in my lap reading mother goose, run my hand through her thin smooth hair, sometimes afraid of what she'll see and hear with her mother's eyes and her father's ears
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Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
Plea
KENYA K….Kenya my beautiful country E ….earn honors and respect N …none is like you my country Y …you shine brighter compared to any other A …across the world, you light brighter that the sun The beauty sceneries of the green vegetation The dark color of the people of Kenya The arable land in Kenya The mines The animals and tourist centers in Kenya The presidency The politics The hot springs The digitality in Kenya The economic growth in Kenya The agricultural sector, The flag of Kenya The education sector in Kenya All make me feel proud of Kenya…. And I feel so good to be Kenyan.
0
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
Why Kenya?
**We are a funny lot As in, seriously… we delve into ‘funny’ a lot Very rarely does a day go by That I don’t come across something that cracks my funny bone… Or as a Kenyan would put it ‘makes me just die!’ Body bag The Kenyan This specimen of human is always quick and capable of ridiculing anyone’s apparent "swag" Everyone gets a turn here… so do not huff when you’re ‘it’ There must be a reason you joined this dissing game… this unique Kenyan version of ‘tag’ Just remember The rules are simple, really Keep it above the belt, unless upon exception... They also clearly allow one to feign concession Yes, these rules highly encourage strategic deception Kind of like what our politicians do before the main election But also if you paint a target on your back… you will get shot at... By everyone… and I mean everyone I haven’t seen anyone do that and elude the social media firing squad yet Computers and phones in this case, acting as the internet's version of the bayonet And watch closely if you’re ‘it’… for the inevitable, the friends that will stab you in the back It’s bound to happen, as much as this may **** The memes will come by the truck load… in what may seem like a self driven truck… With a life of its own Just ask Susan Mirfat The most recently owned! We’re a funny lot I tell you Loose cannons almost Our leaders’ shenanigans, our parents’ semantics and our own clownish antics… Prove that despite… How mature as a country we've become… We’re still all just a bunch of children, inside.**
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
The Kenyan 'tag'...
**We are a funny lot As in, seriously… we delve into ‘funny’ a lot Very rarely does a day go by That I don’t come across something that cracks my funny bone… Or as a Kenyan would put it ‘makes me just die!’ Body bag The Kenyan This specimen of human is always quick and capable of ridiculing anyone’s apparent "swag" Everyone gets a turn here… so do not huff when you’re ‘it’ There must be a reason you joined this dissing game… this unique Kenyan version of ‘tag’ Just remember The rules are simple, really Keep it above the belt, unless upon exception... They also clearly allow one to feign concession Yes, these rules highly encourage strategic deception Kind of like what our politicians do before the main election But also if you paint a target on your back… you will get shot at... By everyone… and I mean everyone I haven’t seen anyone do that and elude the social media firing squad yet Computers and phones in this case, acting as the internet's version of the bayonet And watch closely if you’re ‘it’… for the inevitable, the friends that will stab you in the back It’s bound to happen, as much as this may **** The memes will come by the truck load… in what may seem like a self driven truck… With a life of its own Just ask Susan Mirfat The most recently owned! We’re a funny lot I tell you Loose cannons almost Our leaders’ shenanigans, our parents’ semantics and our own clownish antics… Prove that despite… How mature as a country we've become… We’re still all just a bunch of children, inside.**
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32
**Whether it happens next... or this year The vote In memory of the last time I shed 'this tear' And wrote... a piece For the blood that flooded the streets When in vain we sought For calm... for peace In a situation that was out of our control A raging fire that almost engulfed and burnt all When we all watched our motherland fall Almost When darkness threatened to blind all... or most... Kenyans When a neighbour would suddenly become a stranger... a ghost Alien Incited by the devil's seed Damien Brothers, sisters overcome by evil... greed The same one... That would then start a war... civil And feed... off it I, one individual Kenyan plead That this time we say no to violence We 'off it' Let the disgruntled nurse his frustrations in silence No blood for 'office' And let us not get coaxed into foolish acts To ourselves, we owe this Let hatchets be buried away with the bones Old ghosts can't haunt us I shed a tear for peace this... or next year Deaf ear to he that tries to taunt us 'Make the right choice' I hope I reach many And many hear my one voice But this message cannot just be spread by me... so its 'we' We can do it, and God wills it Let it be That we journey toward serenity To a better tomorrow... come with me The best way I can encourage my brothers and sisters Is through poetry For as a country and a culture we are destined to soar sky high Thus... 'the pride of Africa' We should always be Peace.**
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Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 5:20 AM UTC
KENYA, The pride of Africa.
*** Way to fleece… A taxpayer They’ve got us singing the blues And we’re not down for all that jazz*… leave that to the Sax player We remain mind boggled by these selfish ‘leaders’ I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… ‘Dude! Way to bleed us!’ We’re already scraping the floor for crumbs… are they trying to run our finances into the ground? “You work for us you pompous ********** it’s not the other way around...” Midnight meetings in secretive silence We preferred it when their nonsense made a sound We’re ashamed and infuriated But what makes it worse is that we’re not surprised It’s like they strive to be truly hated… and yes, they've  gotten themselves despised More and more by the day As each day goes by We would throw them all out if we could And our actions would be understood Unfortunately we can’t do this for they are skilled at defiance Masters of political science And at it they are that good Liars Cheats The campaigning politician... Seducing us with deceit when he comes out on the street To make his energetic speech And then... The elected Member of Parliament... Only campaigns for his financial gain Once he’s assured that for a whole term his position is permanent That’s where they've slipped up, and I thought they were a smart lot Schemious at least Such a wrong move in an election year Do they not fear… getting dropped by the voter? Two hundred and twenty four MP’s… dead weight in deep water And can’t swim Should they have asked for my advice prior, I would have told them to simply cease and desist “Do not dive in…”.
0
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
WTF!(Of the Kenyan MP and gratuity)
*** Way to fleece… A taxpayer They’ve got us singing the blues And we’re not down for all that jazz*… leave that to the Sax player We remain mind boggled by these selfish ‘leaders’ I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… ‘Dude! Way to bleed us!’ We’re already scraping the floor for crumbs… are they trying to run our finances into the ground? “You work for us you pompous ********** it’s not the other way around...” Midnight meetings in secretive silence We preferred it when their nonsense made a sound We’re ashamed and infuriated But what makes it worse is that we’re not surprised It’s like they strive to be truly hated… and yes, they've  gotten themselves despised More and more by the day As each day goes by We would throw them all out if we could And our actions would be understood Unfortunately we can’t do this for they are skilled at defiance Masters of political science And at it they are that good Liars Cheats The campaigning politician... Seducing us with deceit when he comes out on the street To make his energetic speech And then... The elected Member of Parliament... Only campaigns for his financial gain Once he’s assured that for a whole term his position is permanent That’s where they've slipped up, and I thought they were a smart lot Schemious at least Such a wrong move in an election year Do they not fear… getting dropped by the voter? Two hundred and twenty four MP’s… dead weight in deep water And can’t swim Should they have asked for my advice prior, I would have told them to simply cease and desist “Do not dive in…”.
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38
Swiftly like the night or some **** like that he ran into the dark, like a proverbial Kenyan he jumped over trees and swam in the dirt like a beautiful sea creature in murky depths drank in the worms all wriggling and fleshy lunch to a man by any other name who wouldn't smell as sweet he was hideous like a jack o lantern thrown off of a roof of a 50 story ugly-person hotel: vaccancy if your face has broken a camera lens- he likes eating roots and shoots and tell him otherwise and he'll chop your limbs off and his name I don't know he's too perfectly abstract for such normalities we'll just call him morality
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Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 9:51 PM UTC
Frog Legs
i couldn't stand the heat, spent most of the time in the shade, everyone made fun of the guy standing by the pool reading a book, pretending to be a sundial; i was called the whiskey-man; one night i slept outside and by the time i woke up my glass of brandy disappeared; mingled with the "auctioneers" of a good time; boy one of those kenyan girls was hot... oomph, she looked like oiled coal, slimy bits and raw *** i know i was a tourist... played a stupid drinking game with two english girls, snogged one at the end of the game, wasn't invited back to the room for a ********* spent hours at night looking at the tide splashing the shore, cried at the painting so alive all the museums and galleries became graveyards of appreciation; it was a holiday resort, i admit, although one bartender asked me to do a local tour of the place, go clubbing, supposedly a colonial ******* i was upon first reading; but the heat though! god almighty, couldn't stand the temperature, i was literally an ice-cream cone most of the time, took to the shades, wrote a short story for my grandfather about an elephant dunking his trunk into a bottle of brandy... one day got chatting to a scottish pair and a russian couple, told the scottish guy about travis' 12 memories album, i was originally asking for a cigarette, so we drank and chatted about mickey mouse politics of america... the scottish guy eventually ran off and jumped into the kids' shallow pool veering on blind-drunk-happy... another time i too jumped into a pool with my clothes on... ******* this heat... ha, hmm, those kenyan macaques were funny esp. on prompt of being fed on the balcony... but boy that baboon was a menace, a real anarchist, charged in like a donkey with meningitis and stole food... although one baboon had massive haemorrhoids... and given his fat pinky *** it was even funnier to watch. oh yeah, and this guy muhammad wanted to take me to a crocodile sanctuary of his... i sort of refused the invitation, and no, i didn't go on the zoological escapade of a safari to see the Masai tribesmen... just gave c. g. jung's modern man in search of soul to one of the caretakers of the resort.
0
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
while in kenya
i couldn't stand the heat, spent most of the time in the shade, everyone made fun of the guy standing by the pool reading a book, pretending to be a sundial; i was called the whiskey-man; one night i slept outside and by the time i woke up my glass of brandy disappeared; mingled with the "auctioneers" of a good time; boy one of those kenyan girls was hot... oomph, she looked like oiled coal, slimy bits and raw *** i know i was a tourist... played a stupid drinking game with two english girls, snogged one at the end of the game, wasn't invited back to the room for a ********* spent hours at night looking at the tide splashing the shore, cried at the painting so alive all the museums and galleries became graveyards of appreciation; it was a holiday resort, i admit, although one bartender asked me to do a local tour of the place, go clubbing, supposedly a colonial ******* i was upon first reading; but the heat though! god almighty, couldn't stand the temperature, i was literally an ice-cream cone most of the time, took to the shades, wrote a short story for my grandfather about an elephant dunking his trunk into a bottle of brandy... one day got chatting to a scottish pair and a russian couple, told the scottish guy about travis' 12 memories album, i was originally asking for a cigarette, so we drank and chatted about mickey mouse politics of america... the scottish guy eventually ran off and jumped into the kids' shallow pool veering on blind-drunk-happy... another time i too jumped into a pool with my clothes on... ******* this heat... ha, hmm, those kenyan macaques were funny esp. on prompt of being fed on the balcony... but boy that baboon was a menace, a real anarchist, charged in like a donkey with meningitis and stole food... although one baboon had massive haemorrhoids... and given his fat pinky *** it was even funnier to watch. oh yeah, and this guy muhammad wanted to take me to a crocodile sanctuary of his... i sort of refused the invitation, and no, i didn't go on the zoological escapade of a safari to see the Masai tribesmen... just gave c. g. jung's modern man in search of soul to one of the caretakers of the resort.
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63
I am not Wakandian. I wish I could look at a map and say there that’s where my people came from. Save money, board a plane, fly to my ancestral home, and see what made me. But Africa is a big place and I’m not Kenyan, Nigerian or Ethiopian. I have no claims to their past and no right to their future. All I know is I have some melanin, ***** hair, and the knowledge that my ancestors blood and bones set the foundation for a nation that hasn’t made its mind up about me. So sometimes I wonder what if my ancestors had survived sugar fields instead of cotton. Faced whips on the islands, instead of the south. Would I then feel at home because I could look and know. Or would that leave me emptier since here is still not there and a claim to there would make me less here. I guess until I figure this out I’ll take a made-up country to be my made-up heritage I am Wakandian
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Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 10:26 PM UTC
Home
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) As its social phenomenality Grows with zeal and verve Humanity of love befits Beautifully Elaborate explanation To enable both young and the elderly To have clear and useful Knowledge and insight Of what is love; Shakespeare in the prime Of his bardness decried it A foul protégé of individual beholder Christ confused it for self-immolation In the succor of the universe Leo Tolstoy thought that It was minimal ownership of land Umberto Eco in his scriptorium Declared it man’s impaired judgment Kenyan cubidmaestroes deem it human foully To create a leeway to keep change of a Casanova Mahatma Gandhi called it caste blindness Mandela called it zero apartheid Both in Luther King sang the song Of nonviolent revolt But me I will boldly clash With the precedent civilizations To call love foolishness of a man And shrewdness of a woman As for both man and woman the very love In un-fangled in truth that it can’t pay bills.
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Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
what is love ?
Tribes matter more than research, jobs dished on ethnic network, as academics are left to die at the thrones of sadism and selfish megalomania, proffessors more illiterate as reading culture succumbed to death, to pave way for money culture, harvested from parallel programmes, that takes the beautiful and the academically incompetent, to the university at mercy of their wallets, where the proffessors renew their sinews, on the french chicken by parralleley style on the tops of the female parallel students, as they inspire them with new culture, of laziness,twiterature and cyborature, face-booking for unique *** partners, as books are left to be dust ridden on the miserable shelves of ramshackle libraries.
0
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC
ROT IN KENYAN UNIVERSITIES
I. Prideless, they tore railroad men’s brown ******* lurking the thirsty Kenyan banks. Red moonlight sluiced from brambles and linen skins pressing upon tawny flesh, igniting fire of feline eye. Imperious, they patrolled the union jack encampment lingering in shadows of long-labour’s dreamless sleep until the smoldering campfire morning when one hundred hammers lean in one hundred corners. II. Maneaters in glass houses can’t throw stony glances— the power to haunt having run off with the ghost. Now, they reign over the acrylic savannah sneering—not out of regal disdain, but mild discomfort from dust mites nitpicking at tautly taxidermed pelt. Rebel eyes that halted an empire now cast dull marble stares at fossils in the floor and derailed trains of un-terrified school-children near a hissing robot-box called Mold-A-Rama spewing magma into plastic tyrannosaurs.
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May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 8:06 AM UTC
Ways of Looking At Maneaters
When ever I touch the ground that’s hot With the sole of my foot that’s bare, I never fail to recall a time, And the memories lingering there, Of a day when I was just a boy, Beneath equatorial skies, And the tactic used to keep me indoors While the missionaries rested their eyes. My mother was sick with malaria The curse of the tropic zone, And while my dad was away on the hunt Their station became our home. And after lunch when the sky was hot And the morning’s work was done They took my shoes away from me To keep me out of the sun. The veranda air was still as a grave, Not a sound to could be heard outside Save the click-click-click from the beetles And the grasshoppers jumping to hide. Or the scratching scaly slither, Of a snake on the flowerbed verge, Or the distant cry of the crested crane, These are the sounds that merge. The sight of the distant Koru hills Shimmering in the haze Beyond the frangipani trees Return once more to my gaze, And the prickly spiky Crown of Thorns That lined the garden ways, These are the sights that ribbon back From my early Kenyan days. The smell of the room was a mixture Of scents on the garden air, And creosote coming up through the floor From the pilings under there, And paraffin from the pressure lamps Which hissed as they gave us light. With the hint of oil of pyrethrum Sprayed round the eves at night. The step to my door should I venture At noon was as hot as a stove, The soil on the paths and driveway Would burn if ever I strove. And the thorns in the earth would pr ick me As I cautiously picked my way through To the shade of the frangipani tree, From there I took in the view. So, when ever I touch the ground that’s hot With the sole of my foot that’s bare, I never fail to recall a time, And the memory lingering there, Of a day when I was just a boy, Where the images I find, Set smells and sights and sounds of Africa sizzling in my mind. Redding, California July 4th 2005 temperature 105° Fahrenheit
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May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC
The Hot Earth
When ever I touch the ground that’s hot With the sole of my foot that’s bare, I never fail to recall a time, And the memories lingering there, Of a day when I was just a boy, Beneath equatorial skies, And the tactic used to keep me indoors While the missionaries rested their eyes. My mother was sick with malaria The curse of the tropic zone, And while my dad was away on the hunt Their station became our home. And after lunch when the sky was hot And the morning’s work was done They took my shoes away from me To keep me out of the sun. The veranda air was still as a grave, Not a sound to could be heard outside Save the click-click-click from the beetles And the grasshoppers jumping to hide. Or the scratching scaly slither, Of a snake on the flowerbed verge, Or the distant cry of the crested crane, These are the sounds that merge. The sight of the distant Koru hills Shimmering in the haze Beyond the frangipani trees Return once more to my gaze, And the prickly spiky Crown of Thorns That lined the garden ways, These are the sights that ribbon back From my early Kenyan days. The smell of the room was a mixture Of scents on the garden air, And creosote coming up through the floor From the pilings under there, And paraffin from the pressure lamps Which hissed as they gave us light. With the hint of oil of pyrethrum Sprayed round the eves at night. The step to my door should I venture At noon was as hot as a stove, The soil on the paths and driveway Would burn if ever I strove. And the thorns in the earth would pr ick me As I cautiously picked my way through To the shade of the frangipani tree, From there I took in the view. So, when ever I touch the ground that’s hot With the sole of my foot that’s bare, I never fail to recall a time, And the memory lingering there, Of a day when I was just a boy, Where the images I find, Set smells and sights and sounds of Africa sizzling in my mind. Redding, California July 4th 2005 temperature 105° Fahrenheit
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57
A spectre resides within me, tormenting me relentlessly, disrespecting me in my sleep, does this haunting have no end!? There's a ringing in my ears, just before the pain sets in. A constant-thumping, a sharp-stabbing behind my eyes, disrupting me from a glorious deep slumber. Then the panic sets in & I must soothe this beast, before I am driven mad. And O what decisions! Two or three scoops of Colombian, Kenyan, perhaps some Guatemalan!? Black, cream or sugar!? What will suffice this evil tormenter, this wraith of the night!? And O Dear Lord, I cannot think clearly, how can anyone so sleep-deprived, so panicstricken, make such choices this late, so early in the morning!? Dear Lord, please help me make it through another day, please make it go away! Just black......
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Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 5:08 AM UTC
Caffeine The Tormenter (Dear Lord, Please Make It Go Away)
It's funny to live in this place Where integrity definitely takes second place And be lead by people who don't even have the courtesy to attempt to save face Prancing around like nothing happened Recently they were mentioned all over the television As part of a major collusion... a grand conspiracy Well, not really grand as such, for there have been bigger ones We just saw the tip of an iceberg That could sink this ship And they don't even bother speaking in nice words anymore, for their tongues may slip So they say nothing now... no comment And pretend they didn't hear or see that Deaf and blind to public uproar These people would gladly be that To see the Armenian... Russian... Kenyan 'Deputy commissionary of police' Speak so casually and name names with such ease Made me laugh out loud at these jokes we have for leaders But it stops being funny when I think about all cuts we've had to make... financially And these vampires still have the audacity to bleed us.
0
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 12:20 PM UTC
Leading jokes.
.*a viable compensation... males ought to stop being such ***** romantics... how my father plays the Chamberlain to my mother ****** me... and a woman? please... let's just get it over with, castrate me... i have no existential imperative... i am,. the sort of fascist you're supposed t fear... i actually endorse their ideology... i can't sway the opinions of western women... **** 'em... to be honest, the most ****** eruptions i've felt were for Kenyan ivory beauties... ivory? the teeth... skin like molten chocolate... rare for a white man to desire black women...never experienced the Asian fetish... first time in Africa and i recognized in her eyes: we weren't a pair of the ugly people... while shy smoked marijuana on the stealth... god... liquorice in caramel... coconut oil smeared all over her... my one time in Kenya... and i'm looking for a shade... and i also fall in love... and i recognize the eyes that fall love... and everywhere i go... i fall in love... but never stay... a death, the blues, and what comes after: the everyday noose... just prior... come sleep.* ********** i too, am, bewildered at not finding my ego... or rather... pretending to leave with a hard-on... what's wrong with me? or... rather... what's wrong with you? blame games can only go so far....         i can only pretend to give a **** having listened to enough chris isaak songs... after a while... i'm  "thinking".... if this doesn't have rooney mara to compensate with...                  **** you... i'll eat the cauliflower... point break ***** of the 21st century... i'll scratch my beard and pretend to shave... o.k.?! hard-on, no ego... ego, no hard-on...   i guess thinking's side-effect is that that... thinking... sometimes paralyzes.... good to know-ro-ro-robot-good-to-go.
0
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 11:11 PM UTC
your wish, is my chore / liquorice in caramel
.*a viable compensation... males ought to stop being such ***** romantics... how my father plays the Chamberlain to my mother ****** me... and a woman? please... let's just get it over with, castrate me... i have no existential imperative... i am,. the sort of fascist you're supposed t fear... i actually endorse their ideology... i can't sway the opinions of western women... **** 'em... to be honest, the most ****** eruptions i've felt were for Kenyan ivory beauties... ivory? the teeth... skin like molten chocolate... rare for a white man to desire black women...never experienced the Asian fetish... first time in Africa and i recognized in her eyes: we weren't a pair of the ugly people... while shy smoked marijuana on the stealth... god... liquorice in caramel... coconut oil smeared all over her... my one time in Kenya... and i'm looking for a shade... and i also fall in love... and i recognize the eyes that fall love... and everywhere i go... i fall in love... but never stay... a death, the blues, and what comes after: the everyday noose... just prior... come sleep.* ********** i too, am, bewildered at not finding my ego... or rather... pretending to leave with a hard-on... what's wrong with me? or... rather... what's wrong with you? blame games can only go so far....         i can only pretend to give a **** having listened to enough chris isaak songs... after a while... i'm  "thinking".... if this doesn't have rooney mara to compensate with...                  **** you... i'll eat the cauliflower... point break ***** of the 21st century... i'll scratch my beard and pretend to shave... o.k.?! hard-on, no ego... ego, no hard-on...   i guess thinking's side-effect is that that... thinking... sometimes paralyzes.... good to know-ro-ro-robot-good-to-go.
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30
*"Being an introvert in an extroverted world can absolutely be difficult." Came across this on some blog. Think it's more complex to be a mediocre, an extro-intro or an intro-extro... you can't go all out... you won't remain all in... you're doomed to be in the twixt. Yet the middle is dangerous... The middle of the Ocean is the deepest, the middle of the jungle is the riskiest... the middle of the garden of Eden doomed an entire race... for its existence... no driver would drive freely in the middle lane, most run to the climbing lane soon as they see it. Some say the Earth is trapped between Heaven and Hell... maybe we're a compound of Paradisal elements and the rumbles of the Hades... the pawns in the Chess between God and Satan, the Jobs in the bible of now... I'm a Junk of all trades & I'm afraid being in between trades makes me a master of non... I know too much and yet I know nothing... I am an extro-intro... I go out only until the plank starts to swing the other way... I go out until I sense the cold and quickly run back to the lukewarm betwixt for the hot is as fatal to my kind as the cold. Am not an Author and neither am I a poet... Am a "Poether'' or an "Auoet", Am not philosophical neither am I Theological...am "philological" or "Theolophical". I'm trapped at the equator... I'm neither an Eskimo nor an "Antactico"... Not Ugandan nor Kenyan... Tanzania can't claim me but there's yet to be a concrete East African... maybe I'm African. My point is some people think the middle is safe... but I believe different. it's my opinion if you want to be a piglet be one, if you want to be a puppy be a puppy for its fatal to be a Pipet or puppet... both are instruments... even their use is similar. My tragedy is am in between, am a mediocre, a pother, an opssimist, a philothopher, a ctranger or say "Ukantan". I'm just there... Don't be caught in my place... find a place to belong... no matter how dangerous and risky... always choose where you lie...always strive hard to find a prowess... Go past the lines for History remembers those who are unique... whether for the worst or the best. Be the last if you can't be the first...* **Everyone will remember Mabirizi for he knew how to be the last... And sadly everyone will remember Museveni for he's good at keeping his place. Who will remember the one in between. Who will remember Besigye? Who will remember the servant boy that cautioned Achilles against fighting the Thessalonian? Who will remember me?**
0
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
Who Will Remember?
*"Being an introvert in an extroverted world can absolutely be difficult." Came across this on some blog. Think it's more complex to be a mediocre, an extro-intro or an intro-extro... you can't go all out... you won't remain all in... you're doomed to be in the twixt. Yet the middle is dangerous... The middle of the Ocean is the deepest, the middle of the jungle is the riskiest... the middle of the garden of Eden doomed an entire race... for its existence... no driver would drive freely in the middle lane, most run to the climbing lane soon as they see it. Some say the Earth is trapped between Heaven and Hell... maybe we're a compound of Paradisal elements and the rumbles of the Hades... the pawns in the Chess between God and Satan, the Jobs in the bible of now... I'm a Junk of all trades & I'm afraid being in between trades makes me a master of non... I know too much and yet I know nothing... I am an extro-intro... I go out only until the plank starts to swing the other way... I go out until I sense the cold and quickly run back to the lukewarm betwixt for the hot is as fatal to my kind as the cold. Am not an Author and neither am I a poet... Am a "Poether'' or an "Auoet", Am not philosophical neither am I Theological...am "philological" or "Theolophical". I'm trapped at the equator... I'm neither an Eskimo nor an "Antactico"... Not Ugandan nor Kenyan... Tanzania can't claim me but there's yet to be a concrete East African... maybe I'm African. My point is some people think the middle is safe... but I believe different. it's my opinion if you want to be a piglet be one, if you want to be a puppy be a puppy for its fatal to be a Pipet or puppet... both are instruments... even their use is similar. My tragedy is am in between, am a mediocre, a pother, an opssimist, a philothopher, a ctranger or say "Ukantan". I'm just there... Don't be caught in my place... find a place to belong... no matter how dangerous and risky... always choose where you lie...always strive hard to find a prowess... Go past the lines for History remembers those who are unique... whether for the worst or the best. Be the last if you can't be the first...* **Everyone will remember Mabirizi for he knew how to be the last... And sadly everyone will remember Museveni for he's good at keeping his place. Who will remember the one in between. Who will remember Besigye? Who will remember the servant boy that cautioned Achilles against fighting the Thessalonian? Who will remember me?**
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43
Hon.Uhuru Hon.Muigai Hon.Kernyatta Mr.President! At fifties; So young and illustrious So energetic and industrious So promising and eloquent A sharp brilliant Parliamentary debater A good financial manager A polish political tactician A true Kenyan king Nature's sacred Mugumo's verdict Moi's long-knecked prophecies A perfect great grand transition As history our universal teacher Solomon Kipkoech(poet)
0
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 7:27 AM UTC
Untitled
she wails estranged my unknown mother tears on the Kenyan graves i feel her from my corners a thread pulled taut from the web of my citizen soul
0
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
2/30
early morning, with cup of kenyan blend. i step outside, to meet my day. all soft, misty drizzle. cocooning the view, to the koi pond and slick driveway. stepping stones, are soft wet coins on greenback lawn. dewed and glistening new. the last of the snapdragons, weep in bright tears of beauty. the portulaci have closed their faces to the world, to await the returning sun. in the pond, the koi swim, and glide like solar flashes caught while bathing. bright moving wonder on the colourless day and as i watch the surface becomes hypnotic as water drops create ring,bisecting ring, bisecting ring. concentricity, most exquisite. the smell of jasmine eucalypt and coffee mix and mingle with exhaust and salted iodine. sound is muted. birds, whisper this morning. even the kookaburras call, in stuttering short chuckles. the sea, so close, is but a murmur, a chinese whisper on the frail wind. the small grey cat, comes to sit with me nose, aquiver, ears swiveling to and fro. a pause before, harrumphing and stalking back into the dry, cosy, warmth. i soon follow.... leaving the day, to it's softness.
0
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
outside my front door
all the ******* leave the party early, attired in cackles, even though stilettos say otherwise, they laugh and squeamish assort a waiting line for a mongol tribe: open all hours minus the sunday, when jesus' ***** was dried; got to love a mother of a culprit readied for sacrifice and prayer lasting 2000 years. in between the party? a man walked idly musing his relevance, he popped a few balloons with his cigarette, his life flashed before his eye, notably an error, pornographic photos flashed before his eyes, not as bad as Gucci and gob anna in twisted anorexia... **** actresses take the catwalk... we all revolve around liking curves... plus **** in *** plus **** in **** plus **** in mouth, a holy trinity through and through; there was no offensive image shown, there was no offensive foghorn sound made, but she's too eager to censor communication, says f**k... hush... oompa loompa augustus needs the loo to **** out the roman empire... what entertains children breeds a fear for adults... what entertains adults makes children divvy... say piston and phallus in a rhyming symbiosis of tact... welcome you, welcome i; what doesn't entertain children does entertain adults? the reality of a mistaken fact that childhood passed? and of those who's childhood was orphanage? the free distribution of wealth... or a free distribution of justice be seriously taken along with vitamins? burp... are we shining with sun and vitamin c? perhaps we wished to have netted brown skin in a spider web of self-producing vitamin d of kenyan origin? ah i see, sneezes from cayenne peppering.
0
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 6:41 PM UTC
oompa loompa
all the ******* leave the party early, attired in cackles, even though stilettos say otherwise, they laugh and squeamish assort a waiting line for a mongol tribe: open all hours minus the sunday, when jesus' ***** was dried; got to love a mother of a culprit readied for sacrifice and prayer lasting 2000 years. in between the party? a man walked idly musing his relevance, he popped a few balloons with his cigarette, his life flashed before his eye, notably an error, pornographic photos flashed before his eyes, not as bad as Gucci and gob anna in twisted anorexia... **** actresses take the catwalk... we all revolve around liking curves... plus **** in *** plus **** in **** plus **** in mouth, a holy trinity through and through; there was no offensive image shown, there was no offensive foghorn sound made, but she's too eager to censor communication, says f**k... hush... oompa loompa augustus needs the loo to **** out the roman empire... what entertains children breeds a fear for adults... what entertains adults makes children divvy... say piston and phallus in a rhyming symbiosis of tact... welcome you, welcome i; what doesn't entertain children does entertain adults? the reality of a mistaken fact that childhood passed? and of those who's childhood was orphanage? the free distribution of wealth... or a free distribution of justice be seriously taken along with vitamins? burp... are we shining with sun and vitamin c? perhaps we wished to have netted brown skin in a spider web of self-producing vitamin d of kenyan origin? ah i see, sneezes from cayenne peppering.
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36
happiness all i want it's not a front can't roll in a blunt something i drink or swish or sweet not something to eat or a quick feel not a tug on the reel a new steering wheel but it's what i want and i'm gonna find it trying to figure out where to look i've read a number of books to see what in the world happiness looks like i saw it in a kid he was riding his bike and another little boy with his father flying a kite i saw it in the face of the kenyan who won the boston marathon race i saw it in the eyes of a young couple and it was two guys i see it in the sun in the beaming rays when it grazes my face i smell it in the kitchen mother's cooking dinner the roast is in the oven and the dog is by her side i saw it in her face in her eyes when id come home from work she'd jump off the couch in a very quick spurt and start barking jumping and licking and playing happiness i miss it wish it was staying i'm gonna find it no matter how hard i try i'm going to make it through the world i'll glide in happiness i always strive for happiness but how do i get it? do i stop try? or go harder? travel waters uncharted boats not chartered i seek happiness i want to be smarter i'd rather it not have a price can't be bought but happiness past present all i sought all i seek just had a dream and in the future i see happiness
0
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
Happiness